This story is a sequel to A the Hard Way, but you don’t need to read that series to enjoy this one. Just know Professor Deacon set her sights on Emily, a first-year student she judged might be seduced by discipline. Her successful corruption of Emily was assisted by Ffion, the captain of the university’s women’s rugby team and a former student of hers. In gratitude for her help, Deacon has gifted Emily to Ffion for the weekend.
In Part 1, Ffion set the ground rules for Emily’s submission. In Part 2, Ffion’s flatmate demanded a blowjob from Emily, but Ffion punted his balls across the kitchen before, in Part 3, punishing Emily for her willingness to comply. In part 4, Emily flashed the pizza delivery girl and got her number.
Friday Evening
Emily
It was nice to hear it, but I’m sure Muskan was only being polite when she rated my breasts ten out of ten. And when she gave me her number. I don’t think I’ll call her. Even if she did mean it, I wouldn’t know how to be with another girl.
It wouldn’t hurt to hang on to her number, though. Maybe after this weekend I’ll have enough experience to sleep with someone so confident.
Ffion takes a slice of pizza and passes the open box down to me. “Will you call Muskan?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I don’t think you will, you like cock too much. Besides, she only said you had perfect tits because she hasn’t got any.”
“She had a cute smile, though.”
“Sure. Eat your pizza.”
I take a slice and pass the box back up. I can’t help thinking this would be a lot easier if Ffion let me sit beside her, but I kinda like kneeling naked at her feet, strong thighs either side of me. I feel safe… as long as she doesn’t drip sauce on me. Or worse, get it in my hair.
Ffion passes the box down again before I’m halfway through my first slice. “Don’t take too long eating. We need to get an early night. The squad has the gym tomorrow for a training session, and you’re coming along. Please tell me you packed gym gear?”
“Packed? What do you mean?”
“In your… Oh, for fuck’s sake! I thought you’d left it by the front door, but you didn’t bring a suitcase at all, did you? What were you planning to do all weekend?”
“Go home at night? I thought—”
“You’re mine for the weekend, Emily! All of it. You’ll sleep here. Right, let’s fix this. Where do you live?”
“Myrtle Close.”
“Okay. So you walked here?”
“Yeah.”
“Well finish your pizza then walk back! Pack a bag. A weekend bag. Don’t bother with pyjamas. My pets sleep naked. Oh, and bring that huge dragon dildo you used in one of your videos.”
“It’s not huge!”
“For fucks sake, it was thicker than my forearm!”
“It’s only the XL, though. I’ve got the XXL on my wishlist, but no one’s bought it for me yet.”
* * *
I’ve packed too much, I know I have. But I don’t know what Ffion plans for our weekend or how she likes her pets to look, so pretty much all my lingerie drawer is in the case, along with most of my make-up. Once I’d added a few outfits, gym kit, all my skincare stuff, towels, and toiletries, I’ve barely got space for the dragon dildo.
God, I was so scared of this thing the first time I held it. Thirty centimetres long, about the same around, and heavier than my water bottle — fuck, I need to pack my water bottle!
I thought this thing could never fit in me, but of course it did. I remember every deliciously agonising second of its slow entry: every bulge; every ridge of the scales; every soft, silicon barb; every time I had to stop because I thought I’d reached my limit and every time I pushed on because I knew I could do more.
I was scared before I started and I stayed scared the whole time I was sinking onto it, but I just kept thinking about my audience and how much bigger it could get if I rode the dragon.
I didn’t ride it. When I hit bottom I sobbed— mostly from relief I think — and I had to get it out of me. I was too tight, too sore, too full… but so fucking proud. And that video of me weeping and gaping is one of my most popular, so it was all worth it.
I planned to try the dragon again one day, maybe even move up to the XXL if I could find the courage. But I haven’t, not yet. And now I’m going to hand this thing over to Ffion, so she can stretch me out.
This dildo scared me when I was in control of it. The idea of letting someone else decide how much and how fast — someone who’s never even used a regular size dildo on herself — terrifies me.
But I’ll conquer that fear, the same way I conquered this toy.
* * *
Rufus opened the front door but scurried back to his room as soon as he saw it was me. When I opened Ffion’s door she was sitting up in bed wearing the least sexy nightwear I’ve ever seen: white cotton pyjamas with a ladybird print. They’re the sort of thing I’d wear if I wanted to appeal to the more disturbing end of my already sleazy subscribers.
Ffion looks up from her phone. “About time! The bathroom is straight across the hall. Do what you need to do, but don’t take all night.”
What I ought to do is shower, but that’ll take too long, So I strip, wrap myself in a towel, grab my wash bag, and nip across to the bathroom. Then it’s make up off, teeth brushed, a quick pee, and baby wipes for pits, bits and under my tits. I have no idea what Ffion might want tonight, but whatever she wants, I want to be as fresh as I can be.
When I get back to Ffion’s room, she doesn’t even look up to watch me drop my towel. She only reacts when I lift the duvet to slide in beside her.
“What are you doing?! Pets sleep there!”
She’s pointing to a quilt lying on the floor, on the other side of the bed.
Ffion
Emily looks at me like I’ve told her to shit on the floor not sleep there, then she pouts and walks around the bed anyway.
She lies down, tosses and turns in an attempt to get comfortable, then gives up and curls up.
There’s a moment of sullen silence before she speaks. “Do you not want sex? Because I’ve never tried, you know, cunnilingus. And I kinda want to. I think I’d be good at it.”
I don’t. “We’re definitely not doing that if it’s your first time. There’s only one thing I hate more than getting lousy head from straight girls in the mood to experiment and that’s trying to teach them how to do it right. Maybe you should ask Muskan to teach you? She’s so cute.”
Emily turns over and curls up again like a comma; a sulking comma, with a fine ass. I know how to hurt that ass; I know how to leave my mark on it. But I have no idea how to humiliate its owner. How the hell do I shame a girl who puts her most extreme moments online?
* * *
Ffion and Emily’s story will continue in Sin Bin:
. . .
“Keep your eyes and mouth shut when you’re in there. Well, you do you, I suppose; I won’t judge. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.”
. . .
And exactly here lies the challenge, me thinks: How the hell do I shame a girl who puts her most extreme moments online?
Holding my breath... 😉😁